Lucas went to bed early, still shaken from the outburst of both the sheriff and the town's chief-not to mention the strange reactions from the teenagers in the group chat. No one seemed to remember anything about the church.
But he did.
It wasn't abandoned. It wasn't falling apart or covered in dust like a place forgotten by time. The candles had been burning. The air inside had felt alive. And yet, everyone else acted like it didn't exist.
Pushing the thoughts aside, he showered and stepped out, grabbing a towel to dry his hair. He was exhausted. He bent to pick up the hair dryer from the locker when-
Whispers.
Faint at first, like someone murmuring just beyond his hearing. He froze, his breath hitching. Then, shaking his head, he turned to his window. It was open.
With a sigh, he walked over and shut it, locking it for good measure. Maybe the rustling trees outside had made it sound like voices.
But as soon as he picked up the dryer again, the whispering grew louder.
This time, he knew it wasn't the wind. The voices swirled around him, just beneath the sound of the dryer. They weren't clear-just a jumble of words slipping through the air.
Then he saw it.
In the mirror.
His own reflection stared back, but something felt... off. The whispers-he was certain now-were coming from there.
His heart pounded, fast and frantic, like a drum at a parade. He shut off the dryer and backed away. Not tonight. He was too tired for this.
Without drying his hair properly, he threw himself onto the bed, yanking the duvet over his head, willing himself to ignore the fear crawling up his spine. Tomorrow was his first day at a new school. That was more than enough to deal with.
---
The next morning, Lucas dragged himself out of bed, exhausted. His reflection in the mirror made him pause. His eyes were bloodshot, dark circles resting heavily underneath. And his skin-had he always been this pale?
Shaking it off, he got dressed and headed out.
School was... strange.
At first, it seemed normal-crowded hallways, students shuffling to their lockers, the distant chatter of conversations. But then it started.
People he didn't recognize greeted him.
"Hey, Lucas," a girl said with a smile, brushing past him.
He blinked. "Uh... do I know you?"
She only chuckled, walking away without answering.
Then, in history class, the guy sitting beside him leaned over. "Still having trouble sleeping?"
Lucas stiffened. "What?"
The guy grinned. "Don't worry. You'll get used to it."
"Get used to what?"
No answer.
It kept happening. In the cafeteria. In the hallways. Strangers greeted him like they'd known him forever. Some even mentioned things-small, personal things-like the way he slept, the music he listened to, or the nightmares he used to have as a child.
Each time he tried to ask how they knew, they'd just smile. Laugh. Shrug.
By the time the last bell rang, Lucas was more unsettled than ever.
Because whatever this was, it wasn't normal.
Not even close.
---